The goal of my Sanctuary: Write to Heal program is to reframe your story of struggle so that you can find healing within. Some people may ask, “But what does that mean?” As enrollment is open for Sanctuary from Sept 18-26, 2020 I thought I would use my own stories of struggle as an example.

What does it mean to reframe your story?

If you’ve been around for awhile, you know that the origin of Orchid Story came from the journey of my son Griffin’s diagnosis of life-threatening congenital heart disease. When I was pregnant with Griffin, he (we) underwent a procedure to open his aortic valve. It was the stuff of science fiction. Even now, a decade later, this idea - of performing surgery on fetuses - is not mainstream. It saved Griffin’s life, or it at the very least saved him from having to undergo three open-heart surgeries before he turned three years old.

This whole thing also did a number on me. My world turned upside down when we received his diagnosis. Nothing was the same. In fact, nothing would ever be the same again. Uncertainty and fear took root that day of the infamous ultrasound. As the technician swirled the wand around my stomach, the storm of negative emotions took root. They would grow and grow, along with the growing baby, for the next several years.

This photo of Griffin on my chest with me in the hospital bed is the only one I have holding him on the first day of his life. I held him for about 60 seconds before he was whisked away to the cardiac intensive care unit. I layed alone in that bed for hours after delivery before I could go see him.

For a long while, living with fear and uncertainty was like living with a lion in the room. I vacillated from terror to being willing to risk my life to get rid of it. If only I could tame that wild beast that had taken over my life. I beg, borrowed and pleaded with that animal. I was willing to trade almost anything. “Please, let him survive and I won’t complain for one second about sleepless nights, no matter how long they last.”

What happened with Griffin was nothing short of a miracle - the baby who might not survive wound up not needing open-heart surgery until he was seven years old. He’s living life like most other boys you know.

But that lion stuck with me. It refused to leave even after we took Griffin home from Boston, where we traveled for him to be born, back to Virginia. I wore the fear and uncertainty like a blanket (as the Indigo Girls’ song goes). We had no idea when to expect surgery for our new baby. Every couple of weeks that first year we went to the cardiologist and I would be steeped in fear of what she would say. Would we need to pack up our bags and head to Boston?

Even after his first birthday passed and it was clear this kid was doing ok, the lion would not leave me alone. He paced and paced.

I started therapy. I talked to other heart moms. I read books.

Then, when Griffin was four years old, I was given the opportunity to tell our story on stage at a National conference for healthcare providers. Our doctor - the one who threaded the needle into my uterus, through Griffin’s chest and into his heart - would be in the audience. I spent months planning. I read what I had journaled during those years and continued to write about this uncertainty that plagued me. I interviewed my little family - my partner, Curt, my daughter, Carly, and Griffin. I put together our story. The story of the hardest time of our lives that we had, miraculously, gotten through.

You can listen to the story I shared on that stage here.

There was something incredibly powerful in reflecting back. I saw the strength within each of us in a new way. I saw how much overcoming we had done in those years. This process of re-examining the story freed the lion.

Learning to accept the uncertainty of Griffin’s future became a practice of accepting the uncertainty of life. I came to understand that nothing is certain, which helped me become more mindful.

Really sinking in to the idea that nothing in this life is certain helps you to let go of things/people/habits/jobs that leave you feeling empty. Embracing uncertainty has allowed me to see things, including myself, more clearly.

Interested in working with me to reframe your own story of struggle? Find out about my Sanctuary: Write To Heal small group program here.